


Close Your Eyes

by RainbowRiddler



Category: Agent Carter (TV)
Genre: Angst, F/F, Femslash, Hurt/Comfort, I'm not joking - Freeform, In the Sexy Way, Roleplay?, SMUTTY SMUT, Sex, Smut, The Duchess - Freeform, They bang, You've been warned, based on a movie scene, close your eyes - Freeform, do the do, implied steggy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-19
Updated: 2015-08-07
Packaged: 2018-04-05 04:16:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,658
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4165452
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RainbowRiddler/pseuds/RainbowRiddler
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Angie tries to help Peggy get over Steve.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Comicbooklovergreen](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Comicbooklovergreen/gifts).



V1.01

 

“Peg, I’m home!” Angie called from the entryway as she shrugged out of her jacket.  “Peggy?”  She kicked her shoes off as she hung her coat.  “Are you home?”

Peggy’s shoes sat neatly by the door, her coat and hat hanging just above.  She had to be home, then, Angie decided.  Unless she was out on a mission.  Angie doubted it, though, as she placed her keys on the small table near the door.  Typically, Peggy left a short note on the table when she was out on “spy business”.

“English!” Angie tried again.  And again, silence was all she heard.

She peered into the empty living room and passed through the deserted kitchen as she tried to find Peggy.  She tried the study—empty—and the library—dark, but for the light streaming through the windows.

“The bedrooms, then,” Angie decided, and made her way down the hall.

The light spilling into the hallway from Peggy’s room brought a sense of relief that loosened a tight feeling in Angie’s chest.  She scowled at the realization that she’d been worried, but tamped down the agitation with herself as she peeked into her friend’s room.

She couldn’t see the woman’s face, but she could tell by the angle of Peggy’s shoulders that something was wrong.

“Peg?”

Peggy whipped about to face her, dark eyes wide and wet when they met Angie’s concerned gaze.

“Angie,” she mumbled, voice trembling with emotion.  “I… Is it that late already?  I hadn’t realized.”

“You okay, English?” Angie asked as she stepped fully into the room.  When Peggy laughed—almost self-depreciatively, from Angie’s perspective—and wiped at her eyes, Angie swooped over to sit down beside her.  “Hey… What’s wrong?”

The picture cradled in Peggy’s hands caught Angie’s attention before the Englishwoman could respond.

_Steve Rogers_ , her mind supplied.

Peggy had told her about Steve when they’d moved in, and only brought him up a handful of times since.  Sometimes it was deliberate, like she needed to talk about him to pull herself out of some strange, melancholic mood.  Other times, she would mention him in passing, almost as if she were testing out how much talking about him would sting.

Angie gazed at Peggy’s treasured picture of the “real” Steve Rogers.

He may have started as that scrawny kid from Brooklyn—much like Angie herself—but the hulking wall of muscle he’d become was leagues above her.  And how was she ever to even _hope_ for Peggy’s attention when the woman was so tangled up in memories of red, white, and blue?

With a deep breath, Angie pushed those thoughts from her mind.  She wouldn’t let her own issues distract her from being the friend Peggy obviously needed her to be.

“C’mere,” she said, and wrapped her arms around Peggy’s shoulders.

Peggy didn’t fight being drawn into the embrace, and allowed herself to be tucked against Angie’s collarbone.  With some adjusting, she was able to wrap her arms around the smaller woman, legs bent gracefully to her side.

Angie rested her chin on Peggy’s curls, valiantly ignoring the woman’s nose nestled against her clavicle and the hot puffs of breath just above the collar of her shirt.

“I regret it, you know,” she heard Peggy say.

“Regret what, honey?”

“Waiting,” was breathed against her skin, the significance of it almost more than Angie could bear.  But she held Peggy tighter and rubbed comforting circles on her back and ignored the jealousy she felt towards a dead man.

It wasn’t his fault that Peggy was still hung up on all the _almosts_ he’d taken into the ice with him.

“I used to dream about what it might be like if he came home,” Peggy admitted.  “I used to plan the scolding I’d give him,” she chuckled.  Then her breath hitched, and her shoulders shook, and Angie rocked her from side to side.  “I know he’s gone, but I’m supposed to wait for him.  I said I’d wait for him.  And I find that I can’t… I haven’t been able to move on.”

“Oh, Peg…” Angie whispered.

“It’s silly, I know.  Waiting on him.  He’s dead—I know he’s dead, but… I wanted so much with him.”

“It’s not silly,” Angie told her.  She petted Peggy’s hair for a moment.  “You loved him.  Still do.  That’s not silly.”

“You’re sweet,” Peggy said, almost dismissively.

A brush-off, Angie recognized, and a moment later she realized that Peggy really believed she had no right to still be mourning him.

“I mean it, Peg,” she insisted.  “You’re allowed to wish you’d had more with him.  You’re allowed to wish for closure.”

Angie felt a shuddering breath from Peggy, “It’s foolish to wish for something you’ll never have.”

Angie wasn’t sure if she felt worse for herself or for her friend, but she was eternally grateful that Peggy hadn’t seemed to notice the handful of moments that passed while she held her breath and swallowed the hurt back to the pit of her stomach.

“You’re not wrong to want it, anyway,” Angie whispered into Peggy’s hair.

Peggy scoffed and turned to further bury her face against Angie.  “But I _am_ a fool,” she said.  And then, in a small voice the Angie nearly missed, she said, “It hurts.”

_It does_ , Angie agreed silently.

And with that, an odd sort of determination settled within her.  “Close your eyes,” she said into Peggy’s hair.

“What?”

Angie started to move away from Peggy, leaving the woman on the bed to stare confusedly at her.  “Close your eyes, English,” she said again.  “Just trust me.”  She moved to the bedroom door.  “Close your eyes,” she repeated.

When Peggy finally did as she asked, Angie opened the door and closed it again.

“I want you to picture Steve walking through the door,” she said quietly.  “He’s nervous, worried that you’ll either be angry with him, or that you’ll have moved on while he was away.  But then he sees you, and he’s absolutely awestruck.”

Before Peggy could butt in, Angie pitched her voice to something she hoped was close to what she remembered from Captain America’s USO tour.  Deeper, rich, but still somehow gentle.  “Peggy,” she breathed out, melting into what she prayed was an accurate version of Steve Rogers.  She stepped towards Peggy, footfalls heavier than her own.

And, God bless her, Peggy started to play along.  “Steve?  You’re late.”

“I know,” Angie said with a smirk.  “I had to walk.”  A few more steps had her standing directly in front of the Englishwoman.

Peggy chuckled, “It took you all this time?”  Her voice trembled over the words.

"Nobody's perfect."

As soon as the words left Angie's mouth, the sass coming so naturally to her, Peggy's eyes flew open with a shocked gasp.  She looked at Angie as if surprised to see her there.  "How are you doing that?" Peggy breathed.  "It's like you knew him."

"Close your eyes," Angie reminded, slipping back into character only after Peggy had done as she was told.  She kneeled, hands coming to rest beside Peggy's thighs.  "Forgive me?" she pleaded in her Steve voice.

"Whatever for?"

"For making you wait," Angie whispered.

When Peggy's face melted into something warm and loving and broken, Angie wished she could see her eyes.  "Oh, my darling," she heard from those lips that haunted her.  "There's nothing to forgive."

A smile on her face, Angie stood again, stopping only when Peggy grabbed her receding hand in what appeared to be panic.

"Wait!" Peggy nearly shouted at her.

Angie merely chuckled, an oddly deep sound as she continued to play Steve.  "I'm sorry I missed our date," she told Peggy, and tugged her hand a bit to coax her to stand.  "Let me make it up to you?" she whispered into her ear.  Peggy merely nodded, and allowed herself to be spun into place against Angie, who tried to make herself feel larger and taller than she was.

Peggy didn't seem to mind that Angie was exceptionally slighter in stature than Steve had been when he died, and she rested her head against the top of her shoulder.  Her left hand rested gently on Angie's right shoulder, the other hand clasped in Angie's left as the young actress twirled them about in the silence.

Their dance was a simple thing, all light steps and easy turns.

Angie enjoyed the feeling of Peggy pressed close, amazed that the act had taken them so far.  She hadn’t expected Peggy to so fully immerse herself in the fantasy.  She certainly hadn’t anticipated the way the woman nuzzled against the side of her neck or the way she pressed a kiss to the skin there.

Her heart jumped into her throat when Peggy’s hand slid from her shoulder and down the curve of her breast—likely the swell of Steve’s pectorals in her mind.  Her eyes followed the trail those blood-red nails traced until they grabbed the hand that rested on Peggy’s waist and dragged it down to the hem of her skirt.

“Don’t make me wait any more,” Peggy uttered, lips brushing where she had just kissed.  Her fingers curled around Angie’s, and encouraged them to curl around the edge of her skirt and lift just a bit.

Angie tried to pull back, her breath a short, alarmed gasp of, "But--"

"Shh," Peggy's breath whooshed across her skin.  The woman had firmly grasped her wrist and held her fast.  "Please," she said simply, and Angie's resolve melted.

If Peggy needed so badly to _be_ with Steve that she was willing to plead, then Angie would help her to fulfill the fantasy and bewith Steve.

She swallowed hard, hand shaking in Peggy's grasp.

"Please," Peggy repeated.

A deep breath, followed by another, and Angie gripped the trim in her hand, hard.  "Are you sure?" she asked, her voice an odd, strained mixture of her own and what she had been using for Steve.

Peggy pressed more fully against her and trailed her lips up to Angie's ear.  "Yes," she whispered, and she released her grip on Angie's wrist.  "I need you."

After that, even though she knew it was an act--even though she knew it wasn't real--Angie couldn't hold herself back.  She hiked Peggy's skirt up around her hips, hands immediately flying to grip over the garters at the sides of her thighs.  She pulled at them, even as she tucked her face against Peggy's neck and pushed her towards the bed.

"Peggy," she tried again, voice strangled as she tried to argue one last time.  She couldn't formulate the words, lost in the feel of Peggy's skin at her fingertips.  "Peggy," she attempted one last time.

"Shh."  Peggy crooned reassurances into her ear as she lowered herself onto the mattress, leading Angie after her by the hand.  She kissed Angie's cheek when the younger woman settled her weight onto the mattress as well, fingers dancing around her neck.

"Let me have this," Peggy begged, quiet against the side of Angie's face.

Angie swallowed hard and nodded her agreeance against the corner of Peggy's mouth.  A kiss to her jawline had her quivering  a moment later.  Another followed, then another, and another, each serving to quicken her pulse and make her gasp.

When Peggy climbed onto her lap, Angie vaguely wondered how the situation had gotten turned around on her.  She was supposed to be the one taking charge, she'd thought, but she would play along with the scenario as Peggy dictated.

The scrape of teeth against her jawline jolted Angie out of her thoughts and back to the task at hand.  She tipped her head back at the sound of Peggy's low chuckle, hands working to unclasp the woman's garters.  Then Peggy slid a hand behind Angie's head and gripped the side of her face with the other.

Angie allowed herself to be tilted directly into a kiss, reveling in the feeling of Peggy's fingers tangled through her hair.  It was a sweet kiss--just a light press of lips--that allowed Angie a moment to admire Peggy's eyelashes in the moment afterwards.  A breath, puffed against her lips, and Peggy's grip tightened.  Another kiss, this one more heated as she was held tight to Peggy's lips.  Another after that, crushing and desperate.

After several distracted stops on Angie's part, Peggy's stockings were finally freed from her garters.  The Englishwoman unhooked the garter belt herself and tossed it to the side, muttering something dark about the blasted thing as Angie slid her stockings down her thighs.  Angie couldn't help but chuckle at Peggy's grumbling, the sound hardly past her lips when the woman moved both hands to her shoulders and shoved her onto her back. 

Eyes still closed, Peggy perched above Angie as if admiring her, a smile playing on her lips.

"See something you like?" Angie teased, voice still an odd mix of Steve's and her own.

"I see some _one_ I like," Peggy teased back as she gyrated her hips against Angie's and a wicked grin broke through her easy smile.

Angie tried to believe it was for her.  She tried to imagine Peggy's eyes, dark and needing, staring lovingly back at her.

Another grind of Peggy's hips, and the woman arched herself low, running her body against Angie's like a wildcat.  Or perhaps like a cobra, Angie decided on Peggy's second pass, the feeling of Peggy's tongue against her neck reminding her of the way a snake collects scents.  But Angie held Peggy's hips in place to still her movements before she could strike.

"C'mere!" she grunted, and rolled them over so that Peggy lay beneath her.  Immediately, she set to work on the other woman's blouse, working the buttons open with oddly clumsy fingers.  "Christ," she growled at herself, because how hard was it to undo a couple of buttons?

Again, Peggy laughed at her, the sound low and husky to her ears.  Without a word, she reached to help Angie with her blouse.  "Calm down," she said.  "I'm not going anywhere."

Blouse finally open, Angie hauled Peggy back to a sitting position by the front of the garment before she could maneuver out of it.  She kissed her soundly, hands snaking beneath the newly loosened fabric to unhook Peggy's brassiere.  It only took a moment, her hands familiar with the eyelet and hook setup, and then she was pushing the shirt off Peggy's shoulders and sliding the brassiere away.  She kissed Peggy again as she eased her back to the mattress, their lips working in a hard press against one another.

"I can't get enough of you," Angie mumbled against Peggy's mouth.

"Take all you want."

Angie didn't need to be told twice.  It didn't matter to her anymore that this was likely just a one-time thing, or that Peggy was only doing this to get over Steve.

She didn't care.

She _needed_ this.

With a sound that was somewhere between a growl and a whimper, Angie hiked one of Peggy's legs onto her waist.  Taking a page out of the other woman's book, she ground her pelvis to Peggy's and drank up the heady gasp that tumbled from her lips.  Again and again, she rolled their hips together, swallowing the small noises--gasps and grunts and sighs--that Peggy made with her kisses.  She even caught the woman's tongue between her teeth at one point as it gently peeked out to touch her own, and sucked it into her mouth before she let go with a soft _pop_.

When Peggy arched against her, Angie was reminded of the near nakedness the Englishwoman lay before her in.  She ducked away from eager kisses, trailing her way down Peggy's neck and past her collarbone.  She brushed her lips over a generous swell of flesh--tipped pink with a tight bud--and palmed the other, thumb rubbing over the teat.  She teased a bit, rolling one nipple between her thumb and forefinger while caressing the other with her nose.

The sudden jerk of Peggy's body along with the throaty moan she was rewarded with when her tongue snaked out to lap at the nipple near her nose was enough to spread a brilliant smile across Angie's face.  The pleasure she took from having that sort of influence--that sort of power--over Peggy was intoxicating, and she couldn't help the urge to do it again and again.  For good measure, she switched to the other breast and repeated her motions, adding in a quick nip for her own enjoyment.  The squeak that elicited prompted her to move her hand to the other breast and lightly tweak the nipple there to hear a decidedly stronger gasp.

" _Please_!"Peggy ground out, chest heaving and hips twisting.  " _Please_ ," she panted.  "Oh, God, _please_!" she begged.

Angie smothered a laugh against Peggy's ribs as she moved below the woman's bust.  A soft nibble was left just below Peggy's left breast, and small sipping kisses following in a curved line to her hip where a sharper nip was given.  Peggy wriggled beneath her, whimpering with need.

"Please," she pled again.

Angie rubbed her cheek over Peggy's knickers, inhaling the intoxicating scent of her arousal.  "Please _what_?" she uttered into the fabric before she could stop herself.

"Don't make me wait!" Peggy sobbed.

Angie's head snapped up and she immediately looked to Peggy's face to see the occasional tear streaming from her closed eyes.  "Peggy," she breathed, suddenly unsure.

"Don't make me wait," she repeated.  "Please."

Still, Angie hesitated.

"I _need_ you!" Peggy whispered.

Angie felt her chest tighten, and her breath left her in a whoosh.  With Peggy's words in her mind--in her heart--she nodded to herself and hooked her fingers in the sides of Peggy's knickers and slipped them down her legs.

Breathless with anticipation, Angie moved up Peggy's body and propped herself with her left hand.  Her right found its way between the nest of dark curls between Peggy's legs and she swiped a finger across her slit.  She closed her eyes at the feeling of warm moisture--and the sound of Peggy's responding moan--and blew out a steadying breath.

Two fingers passed through her slick folds the second time, Angie spreading the wetness as Peggy canted her hips towards her.

"Ready?" Angie asked, voice shaking.

"Yes!"

With a hard swallow, Angie slid her fingers over Peggy's entrance one final time, and then slipped just the tips of two inside.  She held her breath as Peggy's stomach muscles tightened in her initial reaction, and sighed in relief when the woman relaxed.  "Okay?"

"Okay," Peggy confirmed.

On a sudden impulse, Angie removed her fingers, only to slide them in again a moment later, deeper than before.  Slowly, she pushed them further, concentrating on Peggy's expressions, which ranged from disappointed when she pulled away at first, to positively blissful as she delved further.

Peggy's lips parted as Angie curled her fingers, what was left of her lipstick half-smeared around her lips.  Angie watched her eagerly, and worked her fingers in curved motions, sure to thrust with the entire weight of her body, and watched as the silent gasp morphed into a guttural moan.  She smiled, pleased beyond all measure that she could elicit that sort of reaction from Peggy--even if she was pretending to be someone else.

"More," Peggy urged, her hands moving to grip at Angie's bicep.  Red nails bit into the flesh there as a bid to convey the need and desperation in Peggy's tone.

Angie leaned over her, still working her fingers and her arm, and ducked her head low to suckle at Peggy's neck.  She lapped her tongue over Peggy's silky skin, salty, either from the tracks of the woman's tears earlier, or the sweat of the day.

A hand tangled roughly in her hair and pulled her backwards, her mouth popping as she was practically ripped from Peggy’s neck.  She briefly marveled at the light bruising she’d left behind until Peggy’s voice met her ears with a breathy and desperate, “Ang!”

Angie pumped harder in response to Peggy calling her name.  This wasn’t about her, she told herself.  This was about Steve.  This was about _Steve_.  This was about STEVE!

She readjusted her position to a low kneel with her left leg under Peggy’s right thigh, and her right thigh bracing the hand busy working Peggy over.  She moved her thigh in tandem with her hand and arm, the sturdy force behind the thrusts helping to rip an oddly girlish gasp from Peggy.

“Oh, bloody—damn!” Peggy panted, and her eyes flew open to look into Angie’s.

“Close your eyes!” Angie half growled, an undertone of panic coloring her voice.

When Peggy waited a moment and almost looked like she wanted to say something, Angie deliberately bumped the heel of her palm to her clit, satisfied when the woman’s eyes rolled back and her eyelids fluttered closed once more.  She watched the way Peggy’s breasts swayed with the movement of their bodies.  She marveled at the way sweat beaded in a fine sheen over her skin.  She zeroed in on the way her throat worked against the sounds trying to escape.

“Let it out!” she said in Steve’s voice, trying to assert her persona again.  “I can see you trying to keep it all in.  Let me hear you!”

“Let it out, Peggy!” she coaxed again.  She swooped low to nip and suckle at a nipple, gratified when she heard the series of loud moans that followed.  “That’s it,” she murmured against Peggy’s breast.  “That’s it.”

“I…” Peggy gasped as she tugged at Angie’s hair.  “I’m—”

“Let it out!”  Angie encouraged.  “Just let go!”

“I—”

Peggy’s breath hitched, another squeak—and Angie found herself becoming quite fond of them—rising from within her.  She shuddered, nails digging into Angie’s scalp as her entire body shook.  Angie felt the easy fluttering around her fingers turn to a forceful spasming.  She felt the way Peggy arched her back and glanced up to watch the woman’s head roll against the mattress it was pressed so firmly into.

“Peggy,” she cooed against sweat-slicked skin.

“Peggy,” she said again, as the pulsing of the Englishwoman’s orgasm began to die down.

“Peggy,” Angie whispered, just barely remembering to use Steve’s voice.  “Oh, Peggy.”  She leaned up and pressed a kiss to Peggy’s throat, and then her jaw, as she eased her fingers out of Peggy’s folds.  The twitches of Peggy’s afterglow set her heart to fluttering, because for all this was about Steve, she did this.

“You’re so beautiful,” she said wistfully as she sat up to gaze at the woman sprawled before her.  “So beautiful.”

The exhausted smile, wide with brilliantly white teeth, that spread across Peggy’s face was the best possible reward Angie could have hoped for.

Then, she sobered, and scooted off the bed.  She discreetly wiped her fingers on her blouse as she headed for the bedroom door.

_Steve_ , she reminded herself.

“I gotta go now, Peggy,” she said quietly, hand on the door knob.  “You take care of yourself.”  She swallowed past the feelings rising from her chest.  “I love you,” she whispered.  Then she slipped out the door and closed it lightly behind her.

Angie didn’t wait to see the sad smile.  She didn’t wait to hear Peggy wishing _Steve_ could stay.

Angie couldn’t wait around to see the realization dawn in Peggy’s eyes when she realized she’d slept with her best friend and _not_ Captain America.


	2. Chapter 2

“ _I love you…_ ”

Deliciously sore, Peggy reveled in the quiet declaration as she drifted in that pleasant space between sated and exhausted.  It wasn’t until the click of the door closing met her ears, and she heard bare feet padding quietly down the hall, that she managed to pull herself back together.

With a deep breath to collect herself, Peggy forced her eyes open and rolled her head towards the door.

Just within her line of vision lay her blouse, wrinkled on the duvet, her brassiere tangled haphazardly to the side.

She sat up to take further stock of herself, her mind pulling more fully from the fog it floated through.

Knickers on the floor.

Skirt rucked up to her waist.

And somewhere down the hall, she heard a sob rip from Angie’s chest.

“Oh, God…” Peggy whispered to herself, throat and chest constricting as she remembered dragging Angie’s hand to the hem of her dress.

_“Don’t make me wait anymore,” Peggy had uttered against Angie’s neck as she nudged the other woman to lift her skirt the slightest bit._

_“But—“_

_“Shh.” She’d grabbed Angie’s wrist when she felt her pulling back.  “Please,” she’d begged.  “Please.”_

_Peggy remembered the sound of Angie taking several deep breaths and the feel of her trembling._

_“Are you sure?” she’d asked, and ever her voice had shaken._

_And Peggy had felt badly—she really, truly had—but it hadn’t been enough to stop her from pressing herself against Angie and whispering sinfully into her ear, “Yes.  I need you.”_

_After that, even the desperate pleas of her name as she was backed towards the bed hadn’t been enough to rein Peggy in.  She’d hushed Angie, effectively putting a stop to any argument she was trying to formulate._

_“Let me have this.”_

Peggy felt sick with the guilt that settled in her stomach, and she tried to remind herself to breathe.  She was only dimly aware of the creak of Angie’s bedroom door as it opened, but another sob and the squeak that indicated she had tried her damnedest to keep it tin were as loud as an air raid siren to her.

She leapt to her feet and bounded to the door, but froze when her hand landed on the knob.

She was still naked, but for the skirt bunched at her waist.

And what would she even _say_ after taking advantage like that?

After she’d hurt Angie like that…

Hand still on the knob, Peggy allowed her head to _thunk_ against the solid wood of the door.  She sighed heavily, eyebrows drawn tightly together.

“You bloody useless twat,” she berated herself.  “What were you thinking?”

When Angie had offered the scenario of Steve coming home—purely to help her find a sense of closure—Peggy had latched onto the promise of the idea, the memory of Steve, and the reality of Angie.

When she’d said “ _Let me have this_ ,” Angie—the lovely, wonderful woman—had obliged.  And Peggy hated to think that she’d pushed her to do so—that she’d taken advantage of their friendship that way.

_Peggy had peppered several kisses along Angie’s jawline before she positioned her legs on either side of the younger woman’s thighs.  She had placed several more as Angie fumbled with her garters, delighted when it left her distracted enough to be tilted into a kiss, and another, and another until her stockings were finally loosed._

Peggy stared dejectedly at the door, forehead still resting against it, and allowed herself to wallow in her newfound misery.

She had well and truly mucked things up with Angie.

All because she couldn’t control her impulses.

With a sigh, Peggy allowed her hand to drop from the doorknob.  She needed time to think about what she would say.  She needed time to breathe.

She pushed away from the door and cast one final, forlorn look at it as she headed to the attached bathroom, hoping beyond hope that a good scrub would help her figure out how to fix the mess she’d made.

 

* * *

 

 

Peggy was sitting at her vanity, intending to set her hair for the night, when she saw the bruising of dark crimson on her neck.  She leaned closer to the mirror to get a better look.

_“More,” Peggy had managed, accent thick and tone desperate._

_She remembered the feeling of Angie’s hair wrapped around her fingers and the sudden, heady sensation of her mouth—warm and wet—on her neck._

_It had nearly been too much, and she pulled the woman away.  The_ pop _that echoed around them when Angie’s lips were torn from her neck sent Peggy’s higher brain functions into free-fall._

_“Ang!”_

Her hair could wait, Peggy decided as she hopped off the small vanity stool quickly enough to topple it.  She paid it no mind as she wrenched the door open and swept down the hall to Angie’s door.

She only paused for a moment when she made it to Angie’s bedroom door, noting that no light spilled from the space between the bottom of the door and the floor.  Still, she decided, it couldn’t hurt to try.

She knocked.

She knocked again.

She knocked once more.

“Angie?” Peggy called softly.

Each and every time, she was met with silence.

“Angie, please,” she tried.  “Angie, are you asleep?”

Still no answer.

She _could_ be asleep, Peggy considered.  Maybe she hadn’t taken it so hard after all?  But, no.  She had been crying, Peggy recalled, and a cold regret filled her for hiding while her friend suffered alone.

She would make it up to Angie, she decided, already formulating the beginnings of her many apologies, and as she grabbed the doorknob and twisted, Peggy was surprised to find it locked.

_Locked…_

Peggy felt her heart drop into her stomach.  Angie had locked her _out_.  She’d never done that before.

Shocked, and with her hands trembling, Peggy backed away from Angie’s door and shuffled back to her own room.  Her throat constricted with emotion, and her lungs felt like they were too small to hold any air, but still somehow too large even for how hollow her chest felt.

Feeling almost mechanical, Peggy shut herself in her bedroom and righted the vanity stool.  She sat upon it and set to work on her hair.

She ignored the mirror image of her hands shaking.

She refused to acknowledge the reflection of her stinging, blood-shot eyes.

She willed herself to turn a blind eye to the bloom of crimson on her neck.

As Peggy worked her hair into small twisted rings, and slid bobby pins ever-so-carefully into place, she happened to glance to the bottom-left corner of the mirror.  The absence of Steve’s photograph made her heart race for the moment it took her to remember where it was.

_The bed,_ she remembered, and swiftly crossed the room to grab it.

And there he was.

Beautiful, wonderful Steve, squinting against the sunlight.

Peggy held the picture delicately, studying his features as she so often did.  The impressive set of his jaw, his strong chin, the slope of his forehead and the shape of his ears.  She always had a soft spot for the slightly crooked swell at the bridge of his nose, undoubtedly from being broken one too many times.  And the way he would smile at her, somehow shy and boyish and roguish all at the same time.

It was then that, with a start, Peggy realized the horrible, gut-wrenching heartbreak she usually felt when gazing at his picture was absent.

With a loving smile, she padded to the vanity and tucked Steve’s picture back into the corner.  Then, with a deep breath, she dropped her eyes away and turned to face her door.

“Tomorrow,” she promised herself.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Green!! I FINISHED IT!!

V1.01

 

Sunlight filtered through Peggy’s curtains, landing on her face to let her know that _tomorrow_ had arrived—and far sooner than she’d hoped.  But she’d made herself (and Angie) a promise, and so she dragged herself from her bed and dressed for the day.

She sat at her vanity to tend her hair and makeup, her tired reflection staring back at her.  She looked pale, and the dark circles under her eyes were a clear indication of how restless she’d been through the night.  Still, it was nothing a bit of makeup couldn’t handle, and she set about the task of “putting on her face.”  Normally she didn’t bother with foundation—she found that it rarely made it through the day when she was doing anything other than office work—but the paleness and the dark circles called for it.

Then the red bruising on her neck caught her eye again, and the thought of covering it up gave her pause.

She should cover it, she knew.  It would be expected of her.

But after what she’d done, did she really deserve to take the easy way out?

 

* * *

 

 

It wasn’t often that Angie burned a meal so badly that she felt like a child learning to cook, but when thoughts of Peggy—and all that had happened between them the night before—had her scraping a puck of charred egg out of her favorite skillet, that was exactly how she felt.

“Damn it,” she growled, voice tight.  The skillet would need a good wash before it could be used again.  Perfect.

Angie dumped the skillet in the sink and scrubbed a hand over her face, saying, “Way to waste the eggs, Martinelli.”  But even as she berated herself, she was glad to have a moment’s distraction from the guilt that had been gnawing at her since late the previous night.

The distraction was short-lived, however, and the approaching _click-clack_ of Peggy’s heels was a harsh reminder of the confrontation she’d been avoiding since Peggy came knocking on her door last night.

 

* * *

Peggy’s steps faltered when she strode into the kitchen from the hall, a smoky haze overtaking her the moment she entered.  She choked a bit, and reared back, fanning a hand in front of her face.  “Oh, bloody—“ she coughed as she tried to blink the sudden sting from her eyes.  “What on Earth happened in here?”

“I got distracted,” Angie admitted, her voice far more subdued than normal as she plated up the bacon that had survived.  “Just bacon and bagels today,” she announced as Peggy sat at her place, “since the eggs didn’t make it.”

“That’s fine.”  Peggy took a moment to observe Angie, though the woman’s back was turned to her.

The usual grace with which Angie usually flowed through the kitchen was gone, replaced by a tense rigidity that seemed to put her at odds with her surroundings.  Peggy couldn’t blame her—not after last night—and she would have been a fool to expect her to be her usual chipper self.

“Angie, I…”

Angie paused—almost flinched, it looked like—and Peggy looked ashamedly at the tabletop.

“Could you bring the cream cheese with you?  When you sit?”

“Sure.”

Peggy gazed mournfully into her cup of tea, infinitely glad it was already on the table along with Angie’s coffee.  She knew she needed to address the situation before things got any worse.  She _knew_ that, but…

Her eyes drifted slowly back to Angie and watched her rifle through the fridge.

She knew that, but she just couldn’t bear the way Angie had winced at the sound of her voice.

 

* * *

 

 

Carrying two plates of bagels and bacon to the table—the block of cream cheese balanced on her forearm—was a breeze, and Angie sat down a moment later.  She eyed Peggy as she placed the cheese in the center of the table for her, noting the lack of color in her cheeks and the heavy bags under her eyes.

“You look like hell,” she muttered, pinned to her seat when those eyes—nearly the color of her coffee—opened.  She sucked in a breath, shocked to see such a weight there, and for an instant she couldn’t breathe.  A moment later, and she was chiding herself for being surprised—as if Peggy looking so woebegone was at all unexpected.

Angie took a sip of her coffee—mostly to distract herself—and closed her eyes against the hurt she could see radiating from Peggy.  She wanted to kiss that hurt away the way she had the night before.  She wanted to wrap her up in blankets and hugs and tell her everything would be all right until the last vestiges of her demons were gone!

But how could she do that when she was the one who brought them in the first place?

How could she find the words to apologize for using not only Peggy, but Steve as well?

 

* * *

 

 

Peggy placed her teacup on the table as gently as her shaking hands would allow.

She couldn’t handle the fearful—almost hunted—look on Angie’s face.  She couldn’t stand the clear distress on display when their eyes met.

She couldn’t ignore the way her heart broke when she saw Angie steeling herself to be in her company.

She needed to say something.  _Now._

Then, the sound of a sharp gasp, and the _thunk_ of Angie’s coffee cup slamming down on the table, alerted Peggy that something was wrong.

She saw Angie scrambling out of her seat, panicked.  “You know, I’m not really hungry this morning,” she said hurriedly, eyes zeroed in on Peggy’s neck—on the bruising there, Peggy realized.  “If you leave the dishes I’ll clean up,” she threw over her shoulder a few seconds later, already halfway across the kitchen and leaving her untouched breakfast behind.

She was nearly through to the hall by the time Peggy gathered her wits enough to stop her.  In a beat, she was up and half-sprinting across the kitchen—hand outstretched in a gesture Angie couldn’t see.  “Angie, wait!” she pled, cringing at the undercurrent of desperation in her voice.  But even as discomfited as Peggy felt, there was no missing the wash of relief when Angie stopped dead just before the doorway.

When Angie didn’t say anything—didn’t even turn around to look at her—Peggy moved several steps nearer.  “Angie, please,” she said, voice quiet and cautious.  She didn’t want to scare her away any more than she already had.  “I think…  Can we talk about last night?”

Peggy watched Angie drop her head, and could tell by the way the skin on her neck pulled taut that her chin must have been near to touching her chest.  “You don’t gotta say anything, Peg,” she muttered, her voice as spiritless as Peggy had ever heard it.  “I know I overstepped my bounds.”

“I…” Peggy started, but came up short when Angie’s words finally sank in.  “You…what?”

“I didn’t mean to take it so far.”  Angie’s voice was thin, and strained with such strong emotion that Peggy almost didn’t hear her.  Her shoulders began to shake, hands balling into fists at her sides, and Peggy could only watch her quake, and try to fit all their broken pieces together.

“I’m sorry, Peggy,” Angie finally whispered, the apology punctuated by a sob nearly identical to the one Peggy heard the night before.

The sounds of Angie’s weeping filled the kitchen, and the force of Peggy’s heart twisting in her chest made her feel as though she’d been shot.

“I’m so sorry,” Angie whimpered, her hands coming up to wipe at the tears Peggy couldn’t see.

Peggy’s heart clenched—lungs refusing to allow her any air—and her mouth worked soundlessly.  Then, just as she’d taken a step forward to reach out and touch Angie’s shoulder, the other woman set forth once again—no doubt intending to flee.

“Angie!” Peggy said, already after her—preparing to sprint down the hall if need be.

She jumped, shocked, when Angie barreled right into the doorframe with a pitiful squeak.  She watched as Angie sagged against the jamb, legs crumpling beneath her a moment later.  And as Angie slid down the polished wooden frame, hands still wiping fruitlessly at her eyes, Peggy heard her weep unreservedly.

“I used you!” Angie wailed, miserably.

With her heart tearing in two, and tears welling in her eyes—stinging in a way smoke never could—Peggy gingerly approached Angie.

“I used you and I used Steve!” Angie cried, not even trying to hide it anymore.

And while Angie sat—bawling and apologizing—on the floor, everything started to click into place for Peggy…

 

* * *

 

 

When Angie heard the rustling of fabric, and the muted thump of Peggy’s knees on the floor, she squeezed her eyes shut.  “I’m sorry,” she said over and over again as she waited for the slap, or the harsh words, or for Peggy to send her packing back to her folks.

But when Peggy wrapped her arms about her waist from behind, Angie could only cry harder.

She could feel Peggy’s cheek, solid and warm, against her shoulder.  She could feel the insistent press of Peggy’s nose, at once firm and gentle, in her hair and against her neck.

“Shh,” Peggy breathed into her curls, and Angie couldn’t handle the note of _understanding_ in that simple breath.

Peggy turned to more fully bury her face against Angie’s neck and whispered, “Don’t you dare apologize.”

“But, Peggy,” Angie whimpered.  “I used you.”

“You didn’t,” was murmured into her hair.

“I did.”

“You didn’t,” Peggy insisted.

“I _did_!” Angie practically snarled.  “I used you.  And I used Steve.”

They fell into silence, and Angie felt Peggy tighten her hold and then roll her head a moment later, her nose poking gently against Angie’s spine.

Then, she heard Peggy take a deep breath and whisper, “I used you, too,” so quietly that she almost missed it.

“What?”  The slight tremor that Angie could feel from Peggy made her pulse jump, though she couldn’t quite say why.

“I used you, too,” Peggy repeated, and for all that she was usually firm and fierce and fervent, Angie couldn’t help but notice how utterly wrecked she sounded.

“You did?” Angie asked after a long moment.  She was surprised to feel herself relax into Peggy’s hold—especially after the admission—but when Peggy leaned the weight of her body more fully against her back, Angie couldn’t quite bring herself to care.

Peggy nodded against her, nose brushing slightly up and down.  “You offered me something I never would have asked for—never would have known _how_ to ask for.”  Her voice wavered, and Angie wished she could look her in the eye.  “It was a wonderful fantasy, Darling,” she said after she cleared her throat.  “And I did get lost in it for a time—thank you for that—but I knew it was you.”

Angie huffed a laugh, not quite believing Peggy, but drying her tears anyway.

“I knew it was you,” Peggy told her again, hands fisting in the fabric of her dress.  “And I found that I rather _wanted_ you to take advantage of the situation.  So badly, in fact, that I went so far as to _encourage_ it.”  A kiss to her shoulder.  “And I would be lying if I said I hadn’t needed it—the closure you gave me with Steve.”  Another kiss to Angie’s shoulder.  “But I knew it was you.”

Angie’s tears flowed anew, heart thudding in her chest.  She squirmed about until Peggy loosened her hold, then immediately turned herself about and latched onto the other woman with a bone-crushing hug.  She waited for Peggy to gather herself and to wrap her arms about her once again before she snugged her head near to Peggy’s ear.  “You mean it?”

“Every single word.”

Angie smiled, and pulled away from Peggy to see the conviction of her words reflected in her eyes.  Then she frowned.

“But Steve…” Angie muttered, pulling her arms protectively to herself and dropping her gaze from Peggy’s.

“We both used him, I think,” Peggy told her as she reached out to take her hands, red nails trailing over her knuckles.  “But I believe he would be glad to have fostered a bit of happiness in my life.”  She said it carefully, her tone hopeful and urging Angie to look at her again.  She looked nervous, Angie thought, those dark eyes wide and imploring her to understand.

Her heart was pounding again.  “Why, Miss Carter, are you propositioning me?”

Peggy squeezed her hands, the ghost of a shy smile on her lips.  Angie could see the tension melt out of Peggy’s shoulders, and they sagged with the weight of her relief as she said, “Is it working?”

Without a word, Angie pulled her hands out of Peggy’s and moved them to cradle the other woman’s cheeks.  She took a moment to smooth away the worry that had so suddenly darkened her features, drinking in the vulnerability that she so rarely witnessed.  She smiled, glanced a Peggy’s lips, and looked back into her eyes.

Angie leaned in, emboldened when she watched Peggy’s eyes slip closed.  The press of her lips to Peggy’s was soft, sweet, and pleasantly warming—and when Angie felt Peggy slide her hand onto her knee, she enjoyed the sensation of butterflies in her stomach.

She smiled into the kiss, savoring the contrast to the night before, and then pulled away just enough to rest her forehead against Peggy’s.  “It’s working,” she whispered, and then pecked another kiss to Peggy’s lips.  “It’s definitely working.”

Peggy smiled—a real smile that reached her eyes and crinkled the edges.  She nudged her nose against Angie’s, and Angie couldn’t help but chuckle at her odd playfulness.  Then she asked, “What now?”

What now, indeed, Angie considered, though the answer came to her simply enough.  “Now you’re going to call off work while I warm our breakfast.  We’re going to eat.  And then we’re going to go back to bed,” she said, rubbing a thumb across the bags beneath Peggy’s eyes.  “Together,” she added.

“Together?”

Peggy sounded almost dazed, and it was all Angie could do to hold in her chuckle.  She distracted herself with ghosting her fingers in a slow drag from Peggy’s face to her hands.  “I’d like to hold you,” she admitted, acutely aware of how her breath puffed against Peggy’s lips.  “Y’know?”

This time, it was Peggy who tilted into a kiss—lingering, but no less chaste—that melted into that brilliantly gorgeous smile that left Angie weak.  “Together, then.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Possibly a follow-up to come. Keep an eye out for "Look at Me"

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, there will be a part two. Things just got a little too long here.


End file.
